the other side of the world
by anachronist-mirror
Summary: At least, Tsuna consoled himself, the sheer absurdity of the situation affected everyone on a global scale, instead of being just confined to the Mafia. [set pre-series, sort of spoilers for the Kekkai Sensen anime? Originally posted on AO3 in 2017]


In retrospect, Kawahira's non-human status should've made Tsuna ask if there were other sentient races on Earth. It may have made the emergency call from the CEDEF branch in New York less shocking, but between hearing the report that New York itself was collapsing - no, _disintegrating_ \- and the frantic shouting over the crackle of static on the line, Tsuna figured his regular despairing headache on the loss of normalcy would be ten times worse starting today, for the next ten years.

At least, he consoled himself, the sheer absurdity of the situation affected everyone on a global scale, instead of being just confined to the Mafia. Maybe, _just,_ maybe, the reaction of people with a healthy sense of normalcy would validate his own reactions from his younger years.

Luckily, only property damage, three injuries, and zero casualties were reported so far. Unluckily, Gokudera was being very, very zealous in grilling the unfortunate soul stationed at the New York end of the secure communications line, with Basil interjecting every now and then with orders for the CEDEF base operations and personnel. There was a mention of U.M.A. and creatures with too many eyes and legs by Gokudera at some point, and wasn't that an omen of thicker, more detailed reports on the impact site rather than just the condition of the CEDEF and their American affiliates?

Then Yamamoto turned on the television to hunt for an international news channel, and Tsuna despaired at the visual confirmation of just how destroyed the city actually was.

"That looks like a warzone from an extremely exciting kaijuu movie," Ryohei remarked, brow furrowed, resting his chin on a bandaged knuckle as they watched the news correspondent gesture wildly at the eerily green mushroom cloud towering over the New York skyline and connecting the sky, shadows and glimpses of writhing overly large tentacles peeking through the fog. Beside him, Yamamoto laughed, casually slinging his arm on the back of his chair as he turned to face his fellow guardian.

"Well, Kaijuu movies normally have mecha in them, too. Spanner, Irie and Verde could probably team up again to make it work - the Mosca should probably count if they make it super big, yeah?"

"Please don't give them any ideas," Tsuna groaned, fishing out the phone from his trouser pocket to check for new messages. From down the table, Hana looked up from the finance and stock market reports she and Haru had been reviewing since this mess started, and voiced her agreement, because no one yet knew what kind of insanity was going on in New York, unless Yamamoto was volunteering to rush to his probable death as the Mosca's test pilot?

His parents, the kids, and Hibari were safe back in Japan. Chrome and Kyouko should be returning from an espionage mission tomorrow, the Varia were handling local and Russian problems this week, Reborn left around an hour ago to meet a few "old friends" for intel, Dino was managing things from his end at the Cavallone estate, and Byakuran would probably (most likely) pop in later for an unscheduled visit to talk (harass him) about today's news.

And that left -

Tsuna's phone rang. He answered it.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi."

"Mukuro."

"Tell Chrome we'll be out for a few days," Mukuro said smoothly above the faint crackle of static. _Tell Chrome_ because Mukuro's indirectly-directly informing Tsuna, _we_, meaning him, Ken and Chikusa, and _a few days_, until their current task was done. That greeting was the first sign something was wrong. The second was more related to the background noise, with suspiciously American-accented voices and a passing by ambulance siren, and it certainly wasn't coming from the news channel. "The LHOS called everyone. Even consultants."

Tsuna sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to stop the sinking feeling in his gut - at least Mukuro thought to call this time around instead of just disappearing and making his presence known three days later by way of a news report featuring a burnt warehouse or something equally destructive. The illusionist somehow coming across and messing around with the League of High Order Spirituals (and who knew that existed? Mammon apparently, threatened by Xanxus at gunpoint to spill the beans so he could kick Tsuna out of the Varia compound faster) was an unexpected outcome of that one mission where Mukuro and Chrome tracked down a gang of traitors all the way to the Scottish countryside, completed the elimination, and somehow came across a family of civilian Espers living on farmland on the way back to the city.

It was kind of hard to miss the crossing ewe suddenly floating off the dirt road and into safety as their vehicle passed, and neither Mukuro nor Chrome felt the Flames of Earth coming from the sheepish man levitating the animal. Needless to say, the both of them were intrigued.

The Macbeths, uninvolved (_untainted_) with the darker side of the criminal underground, thought Mukuro's eye was a manifestation of psychic ability, and their children were delighted to see another sibling pair comfortable with otherworldly talents. Years after that first meeting, Chrome maintained a casual, friendly, _discreet _correspondence with the family, and Mukuro maintained a civilian identity to act as a "distant, independent consultant" to the LHOS for minor possession cases when he wasn't busy with finishing his missions and unnerving people.

For all that Mukuro claimed the entire endeavor was for idle amusement and possession target collecting, his association with the LHOS also shed light on certain rare and otherwise unsolvable problems in Vongola territory that weren't caused by mafia. Tsuna, on his part, was quite happy to leave well and enough alone as long as no one broke Omerta - he couldn't even begin to think of what else he could offer to the Vindici for Mukuro's or Chrome's freedom should they get imprisoned.

(Besides, really, Mukuro needed a hobby that wasn't related to the criminal underground. The Vongola had cleaned house, and for all that Tsuna grieved for his Guardian's lost childhood, he also wished for his Mist to heal from old ghosts. That quirky but warm family would be safe from anyone who wanted leverage against Chrome or Mukuro; Tsuna made sure of that.)

"I'll let her know, but you also have to call her," Tsuna finally says, glancing back at the television news report. "She'd want to know you're there right now. Make sure to come back home alive. The CEDEF branch is still standing and is open to Vongola and its allies stationed in the area. We'll inform them to expect you." He paused. Breathed. Then, in a quieter voice, "Please take care, Mukuro. I know the city already looks really weird" (_as frightening as yours and Mammon's illusions in a fight_, he doesn't say) "but something's - something's wrong."

There was silence between the two of them, interrupted only by the urgent bustle of their respective surroundings. The conference room door must've opened at some point, because Reborn was now stalking to the table, looking incredibly displeased. Tsuna offered him a shaky smile, watching the hitman extra carefully and hoped that whatever irritation Reborn had from the intel wasn't related to him.

On the line, Mukuro chuckled softly, and Tsuna could hear the amusement peeking through the tension. "Oiya. An explosion is not enough to keep me away from our unfinished business. _Ciao_."

* * *

A week later, the CEDEF finally managed to fix their communication lines. The surge of raw spiritual energy that bled from the newly-erected barrier was not something the Vongola had ever imagined planning for when they designed the New York office, and it was mind-boggling to think that it would now have to be factored in the reconstruction effort.

Zero Vongola casualties by virtue of being far from the disaster's epicenter, though transportation between New York and the world was still impossible. Only one bridge still connected the city to the rest of America, and the local authorities were spread thin in figuring out how to get people across safety, organizing rescue and relief efforts, and dealing with the equally confused aliens that appeared from the chasm at the center of the city. The aliens - or monsters, depending on the viewer's perspective - were fascinating, and thankfully some of them were somewhat familiar with human speech.

"They call the place they're from the Alter-world," Mukuro finished with a morbid sort of amusement, still in the process of transferring media files to them. The video quality of the call still wasn't great and the laptop monitor on his study table wasn't as big as the screen in the conference room, but it was enough for Tsuna to see how faintly distant the illusionist's smile was. The barrier's creation may not have injured Mukuro, but Tsuna knew all too well how some wounds were not the physical sort.

"Mukuro-sama," Chrome said from beside him, leaning forward just so, and looked at the other illusionist in earnest. From Tsuna's right, Gokudera coughed delicately and excused himself to the sitting area of Tsuna's spacious study, Yamamoto and Ryohei in tow. Tsuna moved to follow them, and Mukuro's gaze briefly flickered from Chrome to him.

Tsuna stilled. Very carefully, he leaned back in his chair.

After a few more moments of deliberation, Mukuro cupped his palms in front of him, letting Mist flames pool and gather and twist into an image that tugged at Tsuna's heart strings and made Chrome gasp and cover her mouth.

It was a hospital room with two beds. Their occupants, a boy and a girl (twins) were both asleep under the covers, their visible skin wrapped in bandages save for their faces.

Tsuna met Mukuro's gaze above the illusion and saw a maelstrom of emotions masked behind otherwise still features. The feeling of wrong wrong wrong since the Collapse struck still hadn't gone, woven now into the place instead of just a singular cataclysmic event.

"They might take a while yet to figure out how to leave New York," Tsuna started carefully, seeing from the corner of his eye Chrome clutch at the hem of her skirt in agitation. "and we may have dependents who'll need to be looked after until they can recover on their own, unless there are circumstances we aren't aware of. Let us know how it goes?"

Mukuro's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, weighing. He dispelled the illusion with steady hands.

"Perhaps next week," he allowed, and the file transfer completed. A different folder opened on the shared screen, and Mukuro set about to uploading a few files from one of their independent operatives. One document opened, and Tsuna froze as he read the introductory paragraph.

Very slowly, he sank into his seat, whimpering as he cradled his head, all vestiges of his earlier seriousness gone. Chrome, still wide-eyed at the implications of the report, managed a flustered "Boss!" as she rubbed circles on his back in comfort. There was a disbelieving pause before Mukuro started snickering, softly at first, and those events in conjunction were enough to send Gokudera running back to Tsuna, riled up and ready to defend his Boss from Mukuro's sadistic sense of humour if needed.

"Jyuudaime! Are you alright?"

Tsuna moaned and shook his head, already despairing at just how much more complicated his job became.

"Why would a dimension from the middle of nowhere need to bring their own criminal underground to New York!?"


End file.
